


Ticking Time Away

by paperlighthouse



Series: TIME [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (wooj is here), Aliens, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Futuristic, Inspired by Doctor Who, Inspired by Ender's Game, M/M, Minor Injuries, Outer Space, War, but in SPACE!, guns pew pew, in the words of my beta: jeongin best nurse, partners seungbin, slight open ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-23 06:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlighthouse/pseuds/paperlighthouse
Summary: Here he is on a place clearly not his home, but so similar he can’t help feeling like he’s assimilated. A planet that’s a home to so many about to be destroyed. Subconsciously he knows it will be fine. That this battle probably won’t even happen with the data they collect today, and the next round if they have to retry before Chris enters. Changbin is yelling something at him. His mouth is moving widely, his hair swishing as he looks over his shoulder then back at him.“—go now, Seungmin! Weneedto go now!”
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin & Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin, past/implied
Series: TIME [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683340
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	Ticking Time Away

**Author's Note:**

> first off, i would like the acknowledge that this idea didn't come directly from me but from a dream i had while i was on my period and taking perhaps too much pain killers to try and numb the god forsaken cramps. but! Yes. i realllly liked writing this, and turning the visuals from my dream into writing.
> 
> shout out to my beta daisy for offering such sweet words and enthusiasm for this fic :,) i love you bby!! she's also a fic writer and she's amazingg. [ go check her out!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsungie)
> 
> now please, enjoy ;*

  
  


“Don’t worry. It’s not real.” Changbin says from the corner of his mouth, as they bound down the stairs. The soldiers of the city bustle around them, following the right turn after right turn as they descended down the staircase of the hospital. There’s screaming from above. Guns being fired in defense and in offense. The city people murmur as quietly as trauma allows as they are guided like sheep to a lower floor. Changbin squeezes his wrist, and Seungmin’s head turns by itself to look at him. “Hey. You won’t die.” A gunman pulls Seugngmin along by his elbow, another is dragging Changbin along as well. He keeps eye contact as long as he can before he’s pulled into the sea of black. Seungmin’s head pounds. Their guns and their uniforms are black, shiny. Heavy footfalls, down, down, down..

Their job isn’t easy. Anyone who Travels or Writes knows this. It’s terrifying in a way that logically shouldn't be a problem. If you die on site, a Traveler will bring you out of harm's way before then. If you live, you’re still okay, and can even request memory wipe. Yet, here he is on a place clearly not his home, but so similar he can’t help feeling like he’s assimilated. A planet that’s a home to so many about to be destroyed. Subconsciously he knows it will be fine. That this battle probably won’t even happen with the data they collect today, and the next round if they have to retry before Chris enters. Changbin is yelling something at him. His mouth is moving widely, his hair swishing as he looks over his shoulder then back at him. _What’s happening?_

Changbin’s eyes grow wider somehow. The ringing is slowly lowering with the slaps against his cheek._ “—go now, Seungmin! We_ need _to go now!”_ Changbin’s voice is hoarse, rough from screaming and the grainy dust in the air. Seungmin heaves himself up with the help of his partner holding his forearms. The broken concrete beneath his feet makes him stumble. He glances back as Changbin shoves a rag over his mouth and nose. The limp limb lays unmovingly, a foot shapes stamp of blood and dirt on its skin.

Changbin pulls them past the curled bodies, some dead, and some praying in a language Seungmin wasn’t taught in preparation for this Re-Write. They run past flying lines on green; targets. Soldiers stand sturdy, aiming, firing without hesitation. Sungmin can see the white of their eyes as they rush past: physical fear. Changbin twists them around the stairwell that leads to the ground floor, narrowly avoiding a burning line cutting across the war ground. Usually, in training, Seungmin would push him for such a clumsy mistake. Tease him as they practiced where to step, where to fall, where to duck, where to run. But this was real.

The eyes of his partner are wide, his head darting, checking his watch that is slowly counting down. Changbin shoves him, smashing his body to the ground as the hanging glass divider above them is shattered into sand and shards. Seungmin’s body takes over instinctively, rolling them over so he’s looking down at Changbin. His hair is covered in dust. He coughs though they both can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. Blood oozes from the tip of his ear where a stray shard sliced past. Seungmin covers his face with the inside of his elbow, check the time on his hologram clock

_16:06_

Seungmin gives a thumbs-up. Pushes himself up with the leverage. Peers behind the remnant of the wall behind them. A scent hits him and his eyelids flutter in confusion, his head whirling. Smelling _blood_ was never in their training. A double tap to his wrist.

_Are you okay? _ Changbin’s eyes him carefully. 

_Good_. Seungmin makes an ‘ok’ symbol, nods. He checks the watch. He flashes all five fingers twice. _10 minutes left._

_O.K._ Changbin signs back, adjusting on his heel from his crouched position to look around the information desk.

The sound is easy to block out, though maybe that’s worst. It was like training. An anguished scream heats the room. A child cries loudly. A soldier’s body hits the floor with a _thump_. He blinks his eyes, hard. Just like training. He peers over his shoulder again. Maps the lines that were taped down to the floor of the simulation room. To the left of the soldier holding his ground, firing blindly because he knows he can’t win, while also avoiding the skeletal body of the terrorist invader in the process. The sound of a bone snapping.

Just like training he moves with the crunching sound; the que. Changbin covers his back, ducking while they run to grab a gun from a body. _Over_; Seungmin jumps a pile of corpses. _Under_; Seungmin ducks the swipe of a heavy, needle laden tail. _Down_; Changbin shoots the terrorist six times in the jugular in quick succession. _Cover_; Seungmin stands, blocking the senior Traveler with his body as he reloads. A female citizen runs in past of him to hide in a storage room. _Double Tap_; Changbin taps hard against the rough, netted armor covering his back. They continue to run. Just like training.

The support structure of the hospital groans. The doors crunch under the weight then exploding into shards. They increase their speed towards the rectangle of light of the gap in the building. A bang tears through the back of the building, the survivors desperate screams becoming crushed under the falling floors. The last two pillars of the outer support structure tremble, cracking under the immense pressure. Seungmin watches, _not like training_, as the chips fly. Something wet drips down the bridge of his nose and onto his lips.

Their boots stamp across the street till they make it to the third object, a tree Seungmin thinks belatedly as he pants open mouthed, staring up at the lime sun through the purple leaves. The sound of crashing, the sound of the hospital falling, crushing, echoes for miles, but no one’s left to hear it.

Seungmin closes his eyes, resting in the darkness as his breath pounds out of his chest. There’s a rustle in the grass beside him as Changbin flops down beside him. He smells like brick dust and blood. “You did pretty well for your first Revision.” His voice scrapes. His side profile is beautiful the small voice deep down in him says without prompt. The rise and fall of his broad chest, the jerk of his adam’s apple with a swallow of bloody spit, his jaw curved under the weight he put on. His ear was bleeding; a mistake. 

Seungmin struggles to sit up, wobbling to straighten on just his knees, “Changbin. Where's your in-ear?” The Traveler blinks, lips drawn ambiguously.

“I took it out.”

_Changbin shook his shoulders with both hands, abandoning the gun now clattering against the cement floor. His mouth moves wildly, his eyes wide with adrenaline. He takes a hand, puts it to his ear. Shouts. His thick eyebrows draw together, his jaw flexes. He fishes for the loop tucked around the back of his ear, throws his blinking in-ear to the floor._

Seungmin sits back on his haunches. He stares emptily at the meadow-like hills surrounding the rubble of the hospital. He glares at his partner. “Chris is going to fucking kill you. He's going to kill us.” 

Changbin laughs nervously. “Yeah.”

_16:16_ comes a lot sooner than they both would like with that realization.

A gritty scratching sound, like metal dragging across concrete, drags through the slit in time. Light spreads through it with the smell of bleach. Before his last mission, sometime when Seungmin was still a trainee, Hyunjin had told him that after a while the sound and smell became a comfort though he could never understand why.

  
  


“I don't know _how_, Seungmin.” Hyunjin grunted, blocking a kick from Changbin as they spared. The sweat slick mats of the training arena provided no grip for Hyunjin to level himself before he was thrown down by his partner. Changbin offered a hand and pulled him up. Hyunjin lifted him with his feet and threw him over his head. They lay panting as Seungmin squirted water into their mouths with the malleable water bottles by the door.

“Somehow it’s good,” Changbin rushed out in a groan. His muscles tensed as he stretched above his head like a cat. He sighed contently. “Like a bell on a door, it means you’re going home.”

Jeongin came in soon afterwards with his medkit slapping against his side, pulling out bangages when Changbin whined about a sore wrist, a gooey ointment to smear to Hyunjin’s back when he complained about a burn. He smiled up at Seungmin where he stood watching, curious.

“You’ll get your turn, Seungmin. Then you can get really cool boo-boos like this one.” Changbin teased in a sweet voice. Hyunjin laughed loudly in staccato, batting at the arm of his partner, _"don’t tease him, hyung.”_

The dead term made everyone freeze. Changbin stopped wiping his sweat, Innie paused in putting away his supplies, Seungmin starred, wide eyed. Hyunjin startleded, hands shaking, clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” Hyunjin stood, swiping back his damp hair, eyes frantic, “I don’t… I don’t know where that came from. I’ll… go shower.” He padded through the training room to the bathroom, disappearing from view.

A few weeks later, Woojin introduced Changbin and Seungmin. Like they hadn’t already seen each other, playfully spared after hours. They faced each other in matching white gear, spandex-like white shirts, the collar tucked just below their adam’s apples. “With Changbin’s partner requesting a wipe, Seungmin, you will take his place.” The training mats below them were dry though they still smelled salty. “We’ll begin your training as a Traveler. Congratulations, Seungmin; you’re no longer a trainee.” Woojin stepped back, gesturing between them.

Changbin stepped forward, all emotions wiped off his face. Hand outstretched to shake.

Seungmin took it. The callouses from ghost futures burned his soft hands.

  
  


But Hyunjin wasn’t a Traveler anymore. Last Seungmin had heard he was growing cauliflower and beets for an orphanage alongside other wiped Travelers. With the nauseating truth wiped from their memories they lived happier, with more peace than he would ever experience again, Seungmin realized. Seungmin wasn’t a trainee anymore. He was a witness to the destruction of the war set in the future, his knees knocking slightly with the leftover adrenaline. And Changbin _knew_ not to act in contrast to their training. The way he was dabbing at the blood on the cuff of his ear was enough to say the least. 

And Chris wasn’t the softest Writer when it came to going off the plan.

The Writer stepped through the gap in time, his boots hitting the asphalt road with a jingle as the buckles jangled. His apprentice, Jisung, followed him, the smell of bleach kicking a cough from his lungs. His nose wrinkled at the soft breeze of death flowing from the rubbled building. Seungmin probably would have too if Chris wasn’t marching towards them, eyes locked on his partner.

The Writer got close, almost lip to lip with the Traveler. “What did you do Changbin?” He snarled the corner of his top lip twitching in anger. The Traveler stared back calmly, hands clasped behind his back. Seungmin glanced between them worriedly, his own stance stuttering with hesitance. Jisung was standing off towards the gash in time, his shoulders slumped, his eyes bloodshot. Chris must have had him up running statistics and scenarios. 

Changbin kept his chin high, “I went off the plan, Sir.”

“I think we all know that, Changbin. I meant why.” His voice cut like ice.

The fingers of the senior traveller twitched behind his back. He cleared his throat briefly. “I got emotionally involved, Sir.”

Chris’ eyes drifted to Seungmin with thinly veiled rage. He stared ahead. The rookie clenched his jaw, the joints in his hands and feet tight. Jisung was watching, and though Seungmin knew it was part of his observation training, he couldn’t help, but feel even more humiliated. Maybe that was the point.

“Seungmin’s mistakes were normal; accounted for,” Chris continued, the anger slowly draining for a more professional choice of words, “No rookie does one hundered percent on their first time-trip.” The Writer paused, looking the Traveler up and down, “I was expecting more from _you_, Changbin.” Seungmin involuntarily flinched at the cool words. He carefully glanced at his partner.

Changbin’s eyes shone with a self-defensive glaze for a while, glimmering. He finally broke. His eyes breaking their fixation on the space above their shoulders to fall to the floor. “Yes, Sir.” Quiet. The breeze picked up again. Jisung coughed into his sleeve. Seungmin’s eyes and nose burned. Changbin stared at their boots, chin slightly lowered.

Chris sighed through his nose. He readjusted his posture, cracking his back. Promotion meant lack of on site work which meant more sitting in uncomfortable chairs. “You understand why I have to punish you?” It was more of a statement, but carried the same expectation of a response. Seungmin lowered his eyes to the floor out of respect for his partner. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Chan sighed again, heavier. “O.K.” _O.K._ He repeated out of habit in sign, his fingers curled against the side of his pants. “Let’s head back then. Minho needs to pull data, and you’re both a little ruffled. Jeongin might actually get to treat a wound if that blood doesn’t dry first. ” Despite the tense atmosphere all of their lips managed to curl into mangled smiles.

“You did a good job, Seungmin. One of many to come.” Seungmin straightened at the acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Jisung blurted a laugh which he poorly covered with a fake cough, laughing into his sleeve as he crossed back through the rift.

Chris lifted his hand, clasping Changbin’s shoulder soft; like a friend instead of a boss. Seungmin looked away, fidgeting. The hospital laid silently, did nothing to cover the kind, gentle whisper of _good job_ and rustle of clothing.

  
  


Punishments are regulated, just like Travelers and Writers are. While their possible punishments are put through the AI system, Seungmin are Changbin go through their required logging, patching, and punishment planning if needed. Or, see a council if they feel the need for a wipe.

Minho wipes his temples with a disinfectant, warns _its cold_ after he swipes the skin. Seungmin still shivers. The logger lowers the chair with the pedal by his foot, types into the plain white keyboard by an extra bundle of extension wire. Jeongin stands on his other side, a medical gas mask in hand, and a careful, yet easy smile on his face. Changbin’s lost in thought on the other side of the room, staring up at the pale blue ceiling and the vast blackness of space through the thick, clear metal window. An orange haired medic tends to the bloody tear in his cartilage. He must be new.

A burst on red and pink pain unfurls rapidly at the top of his spine in his brainstem. Jeongin presses the mask to his face tells him to breathe. _One_, he counts raising his chest dramatically, _two_. _One_, Seungmin breathes in focusing on the dot of a star, _two_.

A fuzz covers his vision as the world around his falling atom by atom, hexagon-like shapes falling from the world around him. The mask around his face disappears, fading into the dark slowly closing the space around him. Logging and patching could be intense, especially for a first timer like Seungmin. He rubs at the back of his neck where his chip was being connected to Minho’s viewing screen. He was asleep, and Jeongin was treating the scratch on the bridge of his nose, and Minho was copying memories into the System. Chris would be getting them anytime now; so would the AI specification for clearing punishments as safe and sane. He swallowed nervously, a shiver running down his spine.

A sucking sound hurls through the black and then Seungmin’s lungs are kicking against his ribs. He gasps a breath, his body throwing himself forward on instinct. The restraints on his wrists keep him from hurtling his body off the reclined examination chair. A hand lands on his wrist. Seungmin flinches, looks at the person sitting by his bedside.

Changbin offers half of a smile. The scrape on the cartilage of his ear is covered in a nude bandage. Changbin squeezes his wrist. Seungmin focuses back on his lips, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  
  


“Your punishment is to burn the library.”

“What?” Changbin croaks.

Chris at least looks sorry. Though he did suggest this punishment, the bitter voice in his head reminds him. He shifts in his seat, “Your punishment, both of your punishments, is to burn the public library you frequented for Seungmin’s practice of rifting.” His posture is stiff, he stares at his desk.

“It’s not real…” Seungmin’s lips mumble, his eyes caught on the smooth flooring. Chris blinks slow, crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe this was still the un-sleep state Jeongin had put him under. Maybe somehow this in itself was a punishment. Somehow, he wished. He still couldn’t feel parts of his face where the anesthetic lingered around the small bandage between his eyes.

“No, it isn’t. Both of your AI’s collaborated on an instructional note.” Their superior stands, clears his throat. “For not following your training for the observational Re-Vison for the Electrim invasion on Planet Visim, year 3402, both parties, Kim Seungmin and Seo Changbin will be punished by burning the public library they regularly visited on the loop they trained on for Traveler Kim’s credentials. This punishment is deemed safe and just.” Chris puts down the small screen.

Seungmin doesn’t bother clearing his voice, he just swallows. “And after,” Chris’ eyes land on him. “It won’t have been burned.” Somehow, that doesn’t make it better.

Chris nods, “Correct.”

“With people inside?” Changbin asks with a stone cold voice. Seungmin’s heart races at the thought, his lungs fill on anxious instinct. His partner’s hands hang loosely by his side; defeated. Chris’ eyes gleam with something, but it’s gone in his next blink.

“No.” With no other comments he continues. “Your punishment will be carried out in one hour. Be ready in forty five to rift walk.”

  
  


Seungmin fully wakes with the aid of a small pink pill Jeongin told him to place under his tongue. (He had waited outside Chris’ door with a sympathetic smile and pale yellow gloves. Suggested a shower as he gave his arm a squeeze and walked down the hall.) The door back to their cabin was short, silent. Seungmin followed Changbin, gave him a spacious following distance. As the door slid shut, his partner announced he was first, grabbing a folded duplicate uniform from the storage units in the walls. The water sprayed as a handle turned, wet heat scaling the glass door Changbin leaned against in the cubicle. Letting the hot water cascade down the knots in his back and stiff spine. Seungmin sat on his bed, stared through the open bathroom door, through the mist, through him.

Maybe this was a dream. Maybe he would wake up tomorrow for another day of training. And Changbin would shake him awake gently, let him have the first shower. Would laugh and wrap his arm around his shoulder as they walked to their training room. Tease Woojin just enough not to wiggle out of doing reps. And they would lay on the sweaty mats, panting, sweat drenching the hair covering their temples. Stare, maybe a little longingly with something a little too dangerous. Pull each other up. Eat dinner at an empty table in the empty cafeteria ‘cause all of the other teams have gone to bed. Go home, their shared room. Roll into their bunks if their muscles are too sore, shower if they can walk the distance.

Changbin walks out of the bathroom, the water dripping off of him making a trail.

And he would dream. Of something he couldn't have. But it's a good dream; a dream he doesn't want to end.

He stops in front of him, head tilted at an angle, stares at him.

_Stop._

His partner touches his chin, wet, wrinkled fingers turning him up to look at him.

_Don't look at me like that._

Rivlets of water trace his face, cling to his hair, drips onto Seungmin’s thighs.

His mouth parts, water lining his cupid’s bow.

_Please, don't say it._

“Seungmin,” he mumbles with satin lips.

“Everything’s gonna change, isn’t it.” His words make their lips brush. Changbin stares evenly, a little more grounded.

“Yeah.” His voice crashes like quiet thunder.

Seungmin leans the hair inch he needs for their lips to mend together.

(Changbin: a broken man. Ripped apart by time, futures crushed under his boots, finger trained to clench down on a trigger, body perfect except for two scars: one on the tip of his ear which whispers doubt. Another, across the tip of his right hand’s pinky from catching on a dirty needle. It stares at him on the pillow across from him, the place now cold, glaring into his soul.)

(Seungmin: a broken boy. Too much pure hope that didn’t covert over into bravery like he thought it would. Hands now calloused, a circuit board in his brain that sorts the things he can’t handle. A pink scar across the bridge of his nose, like the bridge of glasses frames if he wore them. He should have been smarter; should have seen it coming. That courage wasn’t something you could pretend.)

They parted. Changbin pressed his brow into his shoulder, kisses into his cheekbone, whispers, “I’m going to request a wipe.”

_Sorry that I couldn’t give you want. Sorry that I’m giving up. Sorry that I can’t do this anymore. Sorry that I’m not strong enough. Sorry that I won’t know what your face looks like after this. Sorry that I’m leaving you. Sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore, Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin._

And Seungmin curls his hand into his chest and pulls out his heart. Lets words fall from his lips that he would have never let out. “It’s okay, hyung.” Changbin trembles, shakes so violently he’s surprised the heart rate monitor in his chip doesn’t chime on Woojin or Minho’s desks. Or maybe it does, and they ignored it. “It’s okay, hyung.”

Changbin falls apart, and Seungmin finally lets himself fall.

  
  


“You’re new here, right?”

Seungmin looks up. The sun creates a holy crown around the stranger’s head. The person shifts once he sees he’s squinting. The pastel pink bead on a pin of gold pierced through the cuff of his ear twinkles when it catches light. He’s short, but broadly statured. Cute, in a way.

He offers a hand, “My name is Seungmin. And you are?”

“Changbin.” The man looks around, hands on his hips. Probably at the rows upon rows of vegetables glistening with water as a black haired man presses his thumb against the nozzle of the hose. The arc of water sprays across what looks to be heads of lettuce, it is hard to tell from the distance. Maybe he needs glasses.

“Hey!” The stranger, Changbin, perks up again, excitement clearly not gone from his veins. He points at the date etched carefully under his nametag. “We arrived on the same day. Maybe we were partners.”

Seungmin laughs, chest light. “Hmm, maybe.”

Changbin smiles with his whole face, his cheeks full and charming, his nose wrinkled, 

_No, never,_ he thinks. He could never forget a face like that.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh so in the notes of my dream journal i took right after i woke up chan was actually way crueler and sorta insane. and died. a lot. but! i didn't really want to portray him that way mostly bc i wanted to seungbin.
> 
> please feed the starving writer with some comments and kudos!
> 
> and if you could like and retweet [ this tweet](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie/status/1201598596732346371) it would mean a lot ;d. it has the visuals for seungmin and changbin, a fic summary, as well as a link to this fic. i'm also going to add the original dream journal notes if any reader is curious.
> 
> have a nice day~ <3  
  
[ twt @lunagoogie](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie)
> 
> edit (3-30-2020): this work is now part of a series!


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